Greatest Quote Ever

As I was reading the human behavior book "Predictably Irrational", the author Dan Ariely discusses the overlap of social norms, and monetary norms. In particular, he mentions the deadly consequences of mixing the two. For example, if after a spectacular Thanksgiving Dinner you whipped out $400 to give to your mother in law for the great meal, more likely than not you would never be invited back to any future family events.
What was then brought up was the pain of the first, second, and third date, and how the man (usually) has to lay out the cash for everything under the sun. And for what? Which leads to, IMHO, the most greatest quote of all time.

"The most expensive sex is free sex"

Just sayin'.

Shennanigans

Alright- I've been continually remiss in posting. My bad. Hopefully, in the next few weeks, I can 'splain. So just to whet the appetite, some miscellany:

1. Got a new blackberry. As in- today. It's sorta exciting. Except now I realize that I got this thing to help me with work. So now I'll be more efficient. Which means, probably, more work. Blech
2. Shennanigans! Politicians are all pretty much a joke. I have never been more disinterested in politics than I have been lately. In the past few days, I have heard several different "plans" being proposed, all of which involve giving at least 700 HUNDRED BILLION. That looks like that on the screen
700,000,000,000

Which is a million millions. Or..... seven million millions. Something like that. And the money is supposed to go to the people who were supposed to control the money so it didn't get wasted.

Not so coincidentally, many of my old friends/colleagues have been commenting that they may be returning to ye olde homestead (Long Island) because it's become a little too unaffordable to live away- or they are trying to nest up to save for a new house.

3. Wil Wheton is awesome. I say this mostly because I may have wished to God, Satan, and possibly Cthuhlu for his death. Please understand, this was mostly during my 13th year of life, when my girlfriend threw much undue attention his way. I think she broke up with me because of my unbridled madness. Or maybe it was my brillo hair. I prefer to blame Wil, because, hell, he's awesome, was in Stand by Me, and is playing the geek card to the Nth degree, much to the satisfaction of his wallet and his inner geek. Now I hate him for reasons beyond his dimples and his portrayal of teenage angst. Go see him at http://www.wilwheaton.typepad.com/

4. This past monday, my friend Jeff and I were laboring over our hatred of our friend Joe. Then we realized we probably will not have much of a chance to see him- what with him being in St. Louis and all. I then commented that, well, maybe at family funerals I will see him, since he is my wife's cousin. Lo and behold, a half an hour later, my wife texts me with the sad news that her grandfather passed away.

You all are thinking what I am thinking, yes?
Wait for it..... Wait..... Hold...........................HOLD. PULL!

My subconscious somehow killed my wife's grandfather, just so I could see Joe again.

Unfortunately (on many levels- what with Joe's grandfather dying in this scenario) Joe was not able to make it this past week. So now our level of hatred of Joe is rising... cause, quite frankly, WHAT WILL I DO NEXT TO GET HIS ATTENTION?

Just kidding. RIP Grandpa. You had 95 years on this earth, which is more than most, and you are much honored and remembered.

5. My house stinks like dog and BO. I'm not sure how or why, because the place was smelling Spring Fresh for the party this past weekend. My birthday BTW. Hope you all are feeling sorry for not sending me a gift.

That's about it for now. I am nowhere near as industrious as my fellow bloggers, and I hope they forgive me.

The Professor chimes in- the new semester begins

Well, it's been four months since I've last written to my demanding public. What's worse is that my last postings' displayed a Reubenesque lounger, and quite frankly, the world needs less ugly in it. Let me be the first to say "my bad."

So here's what you've been missing from this side of the thing.

1. I lost 20 lbs. My secret method involved eating less, and exercising more. You can accomplish the same in far less time, but it will require a hacksaw, and the removal of your least favorite leg at or about the knee.

2. My wife and child remain wonderful, beautiful, and the loves of my life. My mutt? Eh, give or take. Right now he is sleeping peacefully, curled on his doggie bed- he is allowed his reprieve.

3. The writing has been in their doldrums. Summer- what with the outside being so shiny, with all it's fresh air and slick water filled pools- has kept me away from the keyboard. Also- there have been some rumblings within my industry that things might get a little shaky. So I've been.... battening down the hatches, as it were. This has, honestly, been taking up a lot of my free time

4. I've been sort of ruminating on what to write. Will it be the Irish fantasy anti hero novel? The fast paced, flashy vampire short story? The bizarre reincarnation story? How about writing...... like, a page for each, once a week?

I suck!
Some Miscellany:

Tonight, I enjoy a early Thursday Night Football Game, involving my Beloved... ahem.... SUPER BOWL CHAMPION......New York Giants. Jacobs and Buress seem to be all the offense the Giants need to win.

Halftime is over. More to come- I believe I will be talking about "growing up geek", or something like that.

"Benefits Supervisor Sleeping", Lucien Freud. 33.6 Million. Grandson of Sigmund, I believe.

Couldn't have someone used that sheet there in the background to cover her up? I mean, she's probably freezing!

Apparently the painting is immense, which goes without saying. So maybe they were just charging for material costs.

The best things in life are free

8 dollars for a gallon of gas within the next 18 months. You heard it here first! And I'm not just talking diesel here.

Personally, I think it's far more important to learn how to make $100 as compared to save $100, but....I think in the upcoming trying times, we can learn to focus on value.

Benjamin Franklin was a smart American, and I believe a rather well respected fellah all around. He invented all sorts of things with Electricity, Waves, firefighting. He got all involved with diplomacy, writing some important country founding documents- but most importantly, he was quite the playa with the ladies. European ladies even. I do wonder sometimes how he found time to do all these things, but then I read that he lived until he was about 84. I'm sure he was somehow hooked up to a bifocally powered Iron Lung or Hyperbaric chamber to get there. Suffice to say, now that I know I have another 50 years, I'm gonna start on catch up.

Maybe the greatest boon from Franklin's brainworks to our society would be....drumroll please.....the lending library. He assembled some rather wealthy printers to create, and thusly lend, books. Books were rather expensive those days. Terms like "two pence threepence full" apparently were todays equivalent of the GDP of Canada.* I can only assume that since people did not have books, that they all carried those adorable hand held chalkboard tablets that the schoolkids had in "Little House on the Prairie." Still not sure how they all learned to read. But I digress.

Considering the explosion of HD and Plasma TV's, I am under the impression that the following image is somewhat foreign to most folk:


** (these asterisks should be next to the picture of the card- I'll fix it if/when I can)

Technically, the library is not "free" since our taxes go to its support, but I think you all catch the drift. I understand the comfortable temptation of having our stories compacted into half hour or hour bites. But honestly, when was the last time that you learned something from TV? Unless you religiously watch HGTV*** or the History/Discovery channel- we're seriously dumbing ourselves down. I'm not saying we need to cut it out, but maybe... in half? Is that so much?

Think of the money you can save just by doing some research and planning through reading. I know that Google and the interwebz covers a great deal of information, but it doesn't cover everything. You can get books, DVD's, even comic books (graphic novels, mindya) through the library. Buying a new book isn't idiotic- but is there a story that is so good that you can't wait a month or two for it to come out for free in the library? Many good ideas for business are sold through a book (with other "products" being upsold after completion of the book.) You can save yourself that initial outlay by just waiting a bit, wading through any information for free once the book/movie is in the library, and then buy the item if you really like it.

I know this sounds cheap/frugal- and I have a hard time arguing. If you are clearing 200-250K a year or more, than this advice is maybe a little too penny pinching. But even saving simply 30 bucks a month, or 360 a year- just by simply waiting a few extra days/weeks to satisfy yourself- can really mean something.

Like, give or take, about 45 gallons of gas for your car


* Ten dollars. Which was a lot back then, since there was no ice hockey or Molson "in the day"
** I used to drink milkshakes from Hershey- a "Cookies & Cream" in a bottle, that had 460 calories per serving- with two servings in the bottle. So if you could polish off 4 bottles- that would ensure that you would be one pound heavier the following day. I assume that they stopped producing these after "regulars" couldn't pinch our fat globby together to grasp dollar bills- nevermind fitting our hands into our pockets anymore
*** I just added HGTV since my wife watches the channel all the time. I know no one else watches it. (I kid I kid!)
**** I have done this blog entry as an homage to Dave Barry. If you haven't already, read "Dave Barry slept Here".

Why Family Guy is so important

So I'm reading "The Memory Book" in an attempt to shore up some of the neurons that may have gone adrift in last years Bacchael "Summer of Bob" (a slight derivation from Seinfeld's "Summer of George- I'll write on that later maybe.) Despite being a salesperson who needs to remember an alarming amount of facts- names have recently been escaping my mind with relative ease. Thus, the reading.

As I was soaking in my tub, leafing through some pages, the following proposition is put forth:

Remember, in order, the following words: Airplane, Tree, Envelope, Earring, Bucket, Sing, Basketball, Salami, Star, Nose.

Now, the authors (a founder of a memory school- go figure- and a Hall of Fame Basketball player from my beloved Knicks), recommends that to easily remember these items, you need to formulate in your head the most ILLOGICAL AND ABSURD linkage/associations between the words at the beginning of the list, using mental imagery.

Now dig this. I imagine an airplane cockpit, being driven by a tree pilot, who leans over and opens an envelope. After he opens it, he finds a gold MR. T earring and tries it on, but it doesn't fit, so he tosses it into the bucket that he uses for a wastebasket. The bucket then begins to sing a song about it's favorite basketball team the Salami Dunks, whose star player is called the "Nose", because of his ability to stuff the ball into his nostril and shoot it into the hoop.

I promise you, I will have a hard time forgetting this sequence of events. But the rub is this: This is all very easy to remember for me, because the entire image is framed using the cartoon style in "Family Guy"

Family Guy has it's critics, the first coming to mind being the brilliant creators/writers of South Park. But the deluge of non sequitirs, irreverence and devotion to absurdity (along with an award winning number of inside references) really floats my boat.
Sure, some of the laughs are "easy", but for a thirty-somethingish ummmm.... (what the hell am I now, a Generation X'er? Sure- why not) Generation X'er, it's refreshing to know that someone else out there was watching/reading the same things that I was. For whatever reason, this exercise is really easy for me with any list of words when I use the Family Guy animation/motif.

So in conclusion, with intelligence being a measure of an ability to absorb, maintain and process information, Family Guy is making me smarter. Now put that in your pipe and smoke it!

Book review: Four Hour Work Week

Today, I am moving into uncharted territory, as I am going to perform a book review of a book that I 1) currently do not have in my possession and 2) have not read in over a month. And I will do this without the help of a net, condom, or sherpa. Wait- what's that? The scratching sound of skin crossing skin, as millions of my fans cross their fingers? That's what I thought!

Now, The Four Hour Work Week, by Timothy Ferris, is a bit misleading in it's title. If you are a Doctor, EMT, or teacher, please do not try to apply most of the techniques recommended in this book. You all picked your bed, now you got to sleep in it. However, if you are looking to get out of your current job, and start a new one- which may offer some easier hours/lifestyles- then do read. READ I SAID!

OK- this book is basically about life style. The title is so catchy because, quite frankly, many of us work long hard hours just to keep up. We have our typical American dream- white picket fence house, dog/cat, spouse and kid- working 9-5 (at least), with maybe both spouses working- etc etc. But are we all happy? Is the trade off worth it?

Ferris outlines a 4 step process which will allow us to further realize our dreams.
1. Definition: a targeted monthly income, how to get started, dreamlining (ie what is it we really want), fear setting (realizing what our fears are, and overcoming them). As with most remedies of similar nature- the way to begin a process is to break down the plans into attainable parts- even 24 hours plans. Nothing monumental here, except for that whole bothersome "what do I want to do that will make me enough money" hurdle. At least setting up these goals will help frame how much you really truly will need. What is vitally important though is to have mini goals, versus a "I need to make $150,000"
2. Elimination: This chapter is swell for learning how to "trim the fat" in our lives. The Pareto principle, or the 80/20 rule (80% of your results will be achieved through 20% of your efforts), combined Parkinsons law (work expands to fill the time you give it) reminds us that there is much we do in life, as in business, that is just "filler", and does not really add much to the bottom line. The greater our ability to eliminate these distractions, the more time we have. Stop spending so much time watching TV, reading newspapers, and on the interwebz, and *gasp* reading books (save Ferris' book, mind you), and you should be more productive. He even gives some recommendations as to how to handle your boss, or co-workers, if they keep trying to eat up your time. This should hopefully give you more time to concentrate on your business(es)
3. Automation: Now, here is the tricky part. Once you've set up your ideal/side business, you now need to pawn off most of the busy work to someone else. Ferris illustrates the cost ratios for outsourcing most business applications to India/Canada, and quite frankly, it's a little frightening how easy it could be. After reading many books on entrepreneurship, I have come to the realization that this option- the delegation part, is usually the most difficult for any successful businessperson. However, with having a business that you know you design with the forethought of handing over the reigns, perhaps this step is a bit easier.
4. Liberation: What to do with all your time now? If you've been working this all right- you can probably work mobile (mobily? Screw you Webster, and your dictionary!). Ferris Recommends "Mini retirements", a fan-spanking tastic idea of taking large chunks off at a time- ie- 6 months or so.

I hate to say it, but I love this book. A lot. It's an easy read, and the unconventional approach to living life is refreshing to say the least. To successfully realize the benefits of the system, it would probably be easier for someone a little more tech savvy (as most of the recommendations in the book involve working a web site, and ordering/shipping materials after promotion.) But whether we want to categorize our jobs as a "Rat Race" (that you Robert Kiyosaki), or even our lifestyles as such, Ferris tacitly infers that our time is our own, and that for the most part, our tethers are self inflicted.

Old, Funny, probably Fake.

http://newscoma.wordpress.com/2008/04/02/cat-found/

Tag this!

Normally, I thrash violently and gnash my teeth at those that put me to work. But since Linda is such a doll, and I do need to practice the whole introspection thing, I decided to give this one a shot.
The following was posted at http://www.snoopmurph.blogspot.com/ Linda does all sorts of bizarre word exercises and other wacky tasks that get thrown at her by alleged "friends" out there on the blogosphere. I personally think that this is just Linda talking to her multiple personalities, but I digress. I am now realizing that putting yourself to these tasks may, through vigorous practice, make you more betterer at expressing yourself, while also having the added benefit of opening yourself up emotionally to future online stalkers. So here's my go at it.

Getting To Know You Meme

The Rules:

1. The rules of the game get posted at the beginning.
2. Each player answers the questions about themselves.
3. At the end of the post, the player then tags 5 or more people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know they've been tagged and asking them to read your blog.
4. Let the person who tagged you know when you've posted your answers.
5. You don't have to randomly italic or bold answers, as Blogger has done for me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1. What was I doing 10 years ago?

Holy crow, I dunno……. I would be 24, so I had just started in Pharmaceuticals – Merck. Living in a walk up apartment in Central Islip- where some of the locals stole our bikes from our porch (note, I said a walk up- and yeah, we were on the 2^nd floor) It was the middle of the dot com craze, and we always ordered out for things from a new company that would deliver food from regular local restaurants (IE Fridays, Chi chi’s, etc), and we were too young and naïve to realize we couldn’t afford it.

2. What are 5 Things on my To-Do List for today:

1. Go to Dad’s for his birthday
2. Prepare for work (I was away last week for a meeting, so I’m sort of lost)
3. Try to work out
4. My wife
5. Do some thinking as to how I can make some extra money this summer

3. Snacks I Enjoy:

1. Entemann’s Devils Food Crumb Donuts.

2. Chips deluxe Peanut butter Chip cookies

3. When dieting, I love some Ricotta Cheese with Vanilla extract (a low carb diet, obviously)

4. Things I would do if I were a Billionaire:

1. Start up some Business, employ some people, and have them call me “Mr. Bob”

2. Charities- Pediatric Oncology and Autism

3. Find a huge farm, get two down on their luck farmers, and tell them “here’s a farm, and my dog named Buddy. Take good care of both please.”

4. New House, maybe a few blocks away, that is lacking the closeness to the train, and maybe is a better shaped/set up one than I have today. And oh yeah- central air/heating.

5. Write professionally. If people ever questioned me any advice I gave, I would remind them,”Who’s the billionaire, eh?”

5. Three Of My Bad Habits:

Only three?
1. Procrastination

2. Analysis Paralysis (looking at things way too long before I act on them- this is different than procrastination since usually the subjects being analyzed are on topic, as compared to procrastination usually involving subjects that are off topic from that which you are trying to avoid)

3. Blogging while the boy watches TV

6. 5 Places I have Lived:

1. Selden

2. Albany

3. Port Jefferson Sta

4. Central Islip

5. St. James

7. Jobs I Have Had:

1. King Kullen Cashier/Stock Boy

2. Taco Bell Cashier/Line worker. MMM MMM GOOD

3. Mall Marketing/Annoyer (one of those folks in the Mall that asks you to do surveys).

4. Residential work with the Developmentally disabled

5. Assistant Manager at one home of #4

6. Yellow Page Salesman

7. Drug Dealer

8. People I want to know more about:

See, I am not going to tag anyone, but instead- if someone has read this, I would like you to think about the following, and if you wish, post a response on your Blog: ((Authors note- stolen blatantly from a book I read, which I will post about later))

“What do you want people to say about you at your Funeral? A family member, a friend, a co worker, and someone who never met you?”

We did it! We're number two! AKA "What it's like to be a Drug Dealer"

I know I promised to write more. I got all your hopes up, and then dashed them with my conspicuous absence. Well, despair no longer! Not that it's an excuse, but I was in Las Vegas, in what we in the pharmaceutical call a POA. I've never quite figured out what POA stands for on my own ("no Bob .... it's not Piece of Ass.") Apparently, it's "Plan of Action." My personal "Plan of Action" was to use our Presidents "Stimulus Plan" to "stimulate the hell out of Craps tables." Ok, maybe not the best use of the money, since that "plan of action" "stimulated the ire of my wife" to "Mushroom cloud laying Motherfucker" levels, but hey listen, I was just following our commander in Chief's orders. A Real American am I.

Now- for those of you just recently tuning in- I am a pharmaceutical representative. To sum my job up in a nutshell- I go and see doctors (or other prescribers, such as Nurse Practitioners or Physician Assistants) and give them good reasons to write my drug over other options. I currently work as a "Medical Institutional Representative" (I think that's my title anyway)- which means I work in Hospitals. This ups the skill set required to actually educating Nurses on administration, and doing all sorts of other tasks to ensure that a hospital uses my drug as per national guidelines, and uses it the right way.

Basically, I tell folks why and how my stuff keeps people alive, and how to make sure that they do it safely.

So imagine my chagrin when I learned, during a meeting at this POA, that the occupation/industry I work in- for more than ten years mind you- ranked second on the "most reviled" list in America. Arms manufacturers squeaked out the top spot.

Understand, that puts us ahead of the tobacco and the oil industry. And gambling. And Politicians. And Lawyers fer chrissakes.

I get some of the hatin' though. The drug industry is bloated- but I think far FAR less than other industries previously mentioned- throw in Financial as well. Not that being slightly less bloated is a good excuse for throwing away money. There are some ne'erdowells in our industry that cover things up. Those people should be strung up as well. But look at the overall intent of the companies, and how the free market competition pretty much excludes cover ups for long (ie, folks from "company A" tend to comb over data from competing "company B", just in case a new drug from company B is safer/more efficacious than the other.)

Two things really need to happen. One- the Pharma (as we call it) industry needs to clean up it's act, or else the government is going to step in for the good of the people. As much of a Libertarian as I am, I have a hard time arguing that a country as affluent as ours should not spend some money protecting it's people from an industry that is potentially harming the population under the veil of helping the population. Two- the pharma industry needs to get some better PR. Life expectancies worldwide are going up. Child mortality worldwide is going up. People are in less pain. And yes, penises are still on the rise, thank you baby jesus.

There is an awful pragmatist in me, and I often have an internal dialogue involving him, and about 75% of the patients who are on the medications that I push. He tells the folks that complain about "the drugs being expensive" or the "drugs have side effects" a simple statement.

"Well, don't take the drugs then."

"Oh but I have XYZ, I need to take them."

"Oh, you mean thing that may cause you A) pain B) organ damage or C) Death? And oh yeah- that "disease" that you have, which has been caused by years of you abusing your own body. Or maybe that disease which- if you went to your doctor more than once every presidential election- could have been prevented?"

"Yeah that disease."

*sarcastically* "oh, yeah, you should get our stuff for free, you're right"

Now, understand, I side with those that argue "Hell, I have a funky chromosome that give me a genetic disposition for this disease, how about me?" I'm also pissed that anyone would not EXTENSIVELY test anything that is vaccinating children, or is administered to pregnant women. I place those people into the other 25%, and I'm willing to throw some of my tax money/wherewithal towards helping these people have a shot at a normal life. I'm also willing to ground the companies that are lax in their safety investigations into mince.

But the other 75%? Go screw. The stuff we give helps you either A) Feel better or B) keep you above the ground as compared to below it.

As you can guess, I'm not going to be part of any new PR move by the industry.

A typical argument is "Well, why should the rich be the only one's to get the benefits?" To which I answer, "Well, they (at least 85% or so of them) earned it, how about them apples?" And, so you know, EVERY... and I'm talking EVERY pharma company out there worth it's weight has an indigent patient program that helps those that are truly lacking in financing. Most of the companies don't even ask for an income verification, including the company that I work for. That means FREE drugs. Yeah, free drugs for poor people.

So put that in your pipe and smoke it.

I know that the pharmaceutical industry has been getting some black eyes recently, and some of them are deserved. It's a fine line to walk, this defense of this multi billion dollar corporate monster.

But cmon, lawyers?

Book review- How to Win Friends & Influence People

The whole writers strike got me kicked off my TV habit but good. Where I used to watch about 20 hours of TV a week, I am now down to about 3-4 (that would be, in no particular order, South Park, Family guy, American Dad, Lost, 30 Rock, and occasionally My Name is Earl.) Throw in maybe one Yankees Game a week too. Suffice to say, where I was once a fat bloated dirty Idaho couch potato, I am now a lean, white, peeled spud.
This being said, I have found that I have a glut of time to myself, and to nurture my mind. In particular, I've been having some pretty outstanding reads. One of which was Dale Carnegie's "How to Win Friends and Influence People."

For those of you outside the business world, this book is pretty much the Mecca to which salespeople should bow. It was written in the late 1930's, with the advice contained therein holding up 70 years later. The Rules, in a nutshell, look something like this:

How to Handle People

1. Don’t Criticize, Condemn, or complain

2. Give Honest and sincere appreciation

3. Arouse in the other person an eager want

How to make People like you

1. Become genuinely interested in people

2. Smile

3. Remember that a person’s name is to that person the sweetest and the most important sound in any language

4. Be a good listener. Encourage others to talk about themselves

5. Talk in terms of the other persons interests

6. Make the other person feel important- and do it sincerely

Win People to your Way of thinking

1. The only way to get the best of an argument is to avoid it

2. Show respect for the other person’s opinions, Never say “you’re wrong”

3. If you are wrong, admit it quickly and emphatically

4. Begin in a friendly way

5. Get the other person saying “yes yes” immediately

6. Let the other person do a great deal of talking

7. Let the other person feel that the idea is his or hers

8. Try honestly to see things from the other persons point of view

9. Be sympathetic with the other person’s ideas and desires

10. Appeal to the nobler motives

11. Dramatize your ideas

12. Throw down a challenge

See? Now you don't have to buy the book! Just kidding. I normally borrow books from the library, but this one was a buy. These are simple rules to follow - in sales, I DEFINITELY can vouch for the fact that people like to talk about themselves. Conversations will flow very easily once someone is in a position of familiarity, or discussing a subject which they are an authority on.

The clincher for me buying this book, however, was how effective it made me when interacting with my wife and son.

You know those commercials you hear on the radio, about how you can buy some program that will get a disobedient child to listen with but a few small phrases? With my 4 and a half year old, I just had to throw in the 1) making him feel important and 2) talking in terms of others interests, and that worked a heck of a lot better than "If you don't listen, you won't get xyz". With my wife, I also find that putting out what I think are her feelings/ideas first, so she can understand where I draw conclusions from- this seems to fly well with her. And naturally, as Carnegie proscribes, when I'm off - which is often- I admit it quickly.

In fact, today, when I DIDN'T try things the "Carnegie" way, I could easily tell, halfway through an argument, that I didn't persuade anyone. Luckily, I have good medical insurance.

Although I can see why some modern authors would consider the attitude presented cliche, with the advice worn and weathered, I found the book to be refreshing. Not just in a sales sense, but in a sense of how one should treat others. I haven't read "The Secret", but I hear the gist of the tale is that "think good things, and good things will happen." I think that is just a paraphrasing of what is summed up by this book, which would be "Treat others well, just as you would be treated, and good things will happen." Which, granted, sounds a little like what Jesus said. But I'm sure he probably purloined that from some Roman as well.

To my adoring fan.....s (aka "scriptor vel intereo")

The following comment was entered sometime yesterday

"I have decided that you NEED to write more regularly. I really think you have a lot to say."
~Snoopmurph

I should call her "Snoopmuse" because quite frankly, I am writing because of her. This woman, whose name is Linda, is the blogger @ http://www.snoopmurph.blogspot.com/ . She has more plates spinning than I have in my kitchen and dining room cabinet combined, and she still finds time to tell me to get off my ass and write. By the way, she writes a damn good blog.

I've been doing a LOT of reading lately. I mean a LOT. So much, in fact, that I actually brought a professional speed reading book (called, coincidentally enough, "Speed reading for Professionals" by Barron's) so that I could read more in less time. The reason is not so complex. I want to improve myself. Understand that I'm not down on myself- this is more of a "go from so-so to great" attempt. Sad to say, I'm not getting any younger. And, quite frankly, I'm not anywhere near where I thought I would be when I was a young lad. I wish I had a good amount of role models around me who owned their own businesses, versus being employees- because this is truly what I want to do. Sadly, this is not the case, so I have been looking to outside sources (ie reading) to help build some pillars as a foundation for my future growth.

What is funny, is that in all my reading, most of the folks that are successful mention their ability to communicate, including being able to WRITE well. Shocker eh? I think I have some aspects of "communicate" pretty well wrapped up- and this can be attributed to the various sales experiences I've had over the past 11 years or so (and, thank you to the managers/trainers out there). But I have only been successful in sales (and, in my opinion, in communication) in a small, isolated field (mostly pharmaceutical).

So, yes Linda, you are right, I DO need to write more. This stuff is euphoric, cathartic, and apparently being good at it makes people want to listen to you more. Go Figure. Thanks for reminding me

Charlie Wilson's War

In life, there are individuals that somehow escape the clutches of responsibility- who weave in and out of modern convention to blaze a trail whose dust others can only hope to choke on. The crowds adore them, romance envelops them, and their faltering only proves to endear. Such a person is Charlie Wilson- a man whose heart beats for his country, his only true love.

I have to admit that- even with the current occupation of Afghanistan by our armed forces due to the hunt for Osama Bin Ladin- that I was mostly unaware of just what the country is all about. But this lack of historical perspective had little effect on my overall enjoyment of the work, and I would recommend the book even for those who grasp the intricacies of the area.

The story focuses on the machinations of Texan Congressman Charles Wilson- a former military man whose love of Churchill drives him to look for the one great fight- the conceived unstoppable great evil who can only be thwarted by equally great righteousness. With the United States still smoldering after the Vietnam conflict, Charlie sees a chance at retribution through the mujahideen - the freedom fighters- of Afghanistan. As compared to the loss in South Vietnam, Charlie sees a dichotomy- where instead of putting American soldiers on the ground to stand with those who "don't want to fight", instead the Muslim jihadists will fight to their last person to defeat the Communist invaders. To do this- Charlie Wilson enlists the aid of CIA agent Gust Avrakotos- himself a gruff complicated Greek who detests the Russians almost as much as Wilson.

The characters that drive this work are great in their deeds, however unorthodox their methods. Throughout the book, there are times that the reader will question the authenticity of the events transpiring on the pages before them. But moving along through the book, the reader becomes accustomed to the methods applied by the various players. Anyone involved in a bureaucracy finds familiar truths in how the American government runs itself. Is a portion of the budget at risk of going unspent? Time to pull out the pet projects!

Having recently watched "Bush's War", it was refreshing to read about an endeavor in which America actually successfully planned and executed a military action- even if it was with another country's troops. The victory achieved through the CIA's Afghanistan/Pakistan proxies, as compared to - ahem- American soldiers, does beg to question why similar efforts could not be repeated.

The protagonists commitment to remain unconventional was perhaps the one aspect of the book that was most alluring. With the Iran/Contra affair unraveling around them, there was a "the rest be damned" attitude displayed by anyone that surrounded the war with the Soviet Union. Wilson honestly tried to have Islamic Fundamentalists use an Israeli (read "Jewish") missle defense system. No joke.

The book is "funny" in the sense that you will often catch yourself so incredulous at the facts presented, and then have to remind yourself that Crile is not writing fiction here. Despite misgivings about the lack of "character" possessed by Wilson and those that orbit him, it is obvious that his passion for victory, no matter what the angle or ally, succeeds all else. Quite frankly I can't think of anything more American.


Although there is that nagging fact that those Al-qaeda guys are now firing on our soldiers with the weapons Wilson sold them.......

Every last drop.....

**Warning- Sanctimonious Rant to Follow**

As a preface- I will admit I have a very narrow background in accounting and the tax code. If there is some glaring error that I make in the upcoming diatribe when it comes to who is getting screwed, please feel free to lambaste me with a reply.
Apparently we, as a country, are not giving the government quite enough. In essence, a recent Senate vote is kicking up the rates for ANYONE making more than 30K a year (give or take). Some details:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/23612342/

And- oh year- there will be no veto on earmarking/pork anytime soon.

Forgive me for being an agitator but- aren't we giving the government enough? Don't get me wrong, I rather enjoy my freeways, social security for grandma, and even our solicitous public servants. But between federal, state, and local real estate tax, I am lucky to clear 55% of my paycheck.

But oh yeah- they allow us to claim the interest on our mortgage loans as tax deductible! Yippie!

I'm not about to do a "Network" type of maneuver, but I'm close. Some of my independence is gently being stripped. I can certainly understand folks that are crying that big business has been sticking it to the little guy for years, and that they should pay their share. I'm all sorts of down with that. But do we really think that the money is in better hands when given to the government?

The recent national administration has shown that there is NOTHING that it wont find money for. I'm not in agreement that there were huge surpluses squandered- as most articles I've read imply that there was some snarky accounting going on. But yeah, an additional 3 Billion added each day in deficits might have SOMETHING to do with the tanking dollar, dontcha think?

Now, to be fair- when it came to earmarking, the only resistance was on the Republican side. I'd have to read more to see if that was just political opportunism/grandstanding or not.

I know that the money isn't just sent into a vacuum. But what truly frustrates me is that there is so little oversight as to where the money goes. As previously posted here, I want to do what I can to help out in some way those children afflicted with cancer. I should be volunteering shortly. Understand, however, that I don't have a lot of disposable income to send their way. Maybe a twenty. That'll help right?

We're in the information age, the world at our fingertips. We know what is going on, almost in an instant. But maybe we're the one's at fault- we are still committed to a two party system, constantly telling ourselves that "well, at least our dopes are better than those dopes on the other side". But the most glaring and frightening aspect of our real time, magnified view is that no one is ponying up to the fact that neither "side" has an answer, and that throwing money at everything, hoping something "sticks", certainly hasn't helped either. Because if they spend money, at least they can say "we are trying", right?

Well, who isn't?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6lcmNaXmjvs

Without invitation....

Ignorance is truly bliss.

During my sophomore year in college, I spent an ill conceived 4 months training to become an EMT- Emergency Medical Technician. I say ill conceived because, after completion of the course- a vigorous and thorough regiment that actually had its participants spend time inside a hospital (Albany Medical Center) seeing procedures, and watching emergency room techniques- I got to actually step in the back of a rig, and go on a few calls. This was when I discovered that, lo and behold, I get severe motion sickness when I try to stand up while standing in the back of a moving van. I don't think I need to elaborate as to why that might be construed as a problem, when one considers the occupation.

And so it goes.

It was 4:57 AM on a spring morning. Dreamtime companions, their performances complete, were taking their final bows. A bizaare noise roused me out of my sleep- a constant "nyung" sound- rhythmic, maybe once every one to two seconds. I tried to acquaint myself with just what was going on around me- it took me a moment to realize I had fallen asleep on my living room couch, on the large sectional seat that held the recliner. Positioned just under a skylight, I could see a deeply layered purple on blue twilight, framed perfectly in a three by four square. Light crept it's way through the curtained window behind me- although not so much as to bother anyone. Such tranquil times almost beg one to fall back into a comfortable slumber- to re-acquaint oneself with Dreamland, if but for a few more minutes. Unfortunately, this is the time- the brink between waking and sleep- that is most familiar to an unwelcome guest.

I wish I could say that I sprung to action as quickly as she did. My machismo blames the delay on lethargy - sleep numbness not quite having fully left my body. But I would be a liar if I didn't admit that I paused- albeit only a second, to nerve up for whatever may be happening upstairs. To be more clear- the sound that I heard from the other room was certainly emanating from a familiar voice. Don't kid yourself into thinking that I was preparing myself for a lurker- human or otherwise.

Disturbances at night- where there is nothing but shadows to couch reality- are the least welcome of intrusions. As I moved from the sanctity of my makeshift recliner/bed to the stairway, I could feel a tightness in my stomach. This distraction derived from my bladder, but I am sure that the flight function of my sympathetic nervous system was flooding my synapses, promising relief not just from the excess fluid, but from having to face what could only be the life crushing change that called out from the bedroom upstairs. My machismo at least was given the satisfaction of seeing me past the bathroom that lay accessibly to my left, to push on the extra ten feet to the stairs.

As much as I can remember, the stairs flew underneath me, two to three at a time. I could already hear my wife trying to grasp just what was happening. This confused me at first, as I thought maybe she was trying to prepare me for what I would be coming upon. The hallway I came to turned right, the pale yellow florescent light reflecting out from the bedroom, a beacon that beckoned to end the mystery that my mind would not quite wrap itself around.

The Bedroom is a soft yellow. With no preview provided before the birth of the child, a gender neutral color was selected. With the baby having come three weeks early, perhaps the shade of yellow was chosen a bit hastily. Nonetheless, welcoming images of Winnie the Pooh and his friends greet those that made their way through the doorway. A ceiling fan spun gently, placed on it's slowest setting. Much like Goldilocks' own baby bear, the breeze provided was "just right". A small white desk, paired with a large white glossed dresser, framed the room that surrounded a twin size bed. A dinosaur quilt lay carelessly crumpled, bunched between the foot of the bed and the window. Atop the bed lay the writhing body of my two year old son.

With the olive skin of my wife having turned almost ashen, my eyes were pulled downwards to the motioning figure that was positioned below her.

"Oh my God I think he's having a seizure what should we do?"

The question laid out there a moment, rather proud of itself. It coalesced into a feeling of dread and condescension, and this combination realized it could take a seat and enjoy itself a spell, 'cause there was a show about to be on, one way or another.

Frustration provided the least resistance. I thought,"Some cocksucker has slammed the brake on the planet, at least according to the lurching feeling I have in my stomach. And maybe that jokester could also explain to me who the hell took Bobby away and replaced him with this shoddy cheeked twitching oversized doll whose eyes can't seem to roll their way back into place"
A frantic perspiration glistened it's way out of my skin, dragging its way out to make me a 220 pound sack of goose flesh.

Ten seconds passed. The jerking- although surely natural- had a feeling about it that was all wrong. Muscles near the head and neck were somehow contracting enough to cause the spasm to flow from top to bottom. Considerably less effort would be to kick out the feet, which would then cause a wave motion up the body.

There was no rush of adrenaline. Quite the opposite. A calm took over. A faint memory found it's way through the impossibility of it all.

"Secure the scene- ABC's- airway, breathing, circulation"

Although the "scene" was certainly secure and safe- the worse thing to happen in an emergency is for someone to interfere, and the worst thing is for there to be an additional emergency victim. And although the voice did not come out loud or clear, it did come out.


"Go call an ambulance". After another few moments of observation, I continued "Tell them that there is a two year old, having a seizure. He is breathing, he has no other notable injuries, and he has been seizing for less than 5 minutes".

I moved my son downstairs. His thin body shook slightly as I held him to close to me. When asked by my wife why I just didn't leave him upstairs, I simply responded that I wanted him as close to the door so that when the ambulance arrived, he would be ready to go. I didn't quite have the heart to tell her "because there is the slightest sliver of a chance that I might need room to perform CPR- and I would need a strong surface such as the floor to provide resistance to the chest thrusts, as compared to the bed mattress and plushy toys that he was laying on. And no, there isn't enough space in a hallway, or beside the bed, if I had to move to provide rescue breathing". I laid him out on the living room floor, under the same skylight that I had left just maybe a minute and a half before. I had placed the sheet I had been slept with underneath his head to prevent any additional injury. And then I did all that I could- which was to watch and wait.

Minutes passed, as his muscles contracted in strict unison.

Tears did not come. The clock in the living room revealed that ten minutes had passed- and I had done what I could to busy my wife to prepare for the eventual hospital trip- getting the milk, the diapers, the change of clothes- oh no, he probably won't be there for more than a few hours. Although it had been many years since I had had any formal training, I knew that ten minutes was a cut off time for seizures. The convulsions had slackened, and for the first time, a look of confusion entered my sons stare. Eyes that had turned themselves inward now locked onto mine, his blues a precise reflection of mine. He could offer no words, no reassuring clench of a hand- only a stare of pleading recognition. I held him then- knowing that he probably could hear me- calling his name several times, trying to convince the world that this was almost over. He continued to sup air through his clenched teeth, as he moaned unintelligibly.

When the wracking of his body finally came to an end, the lids to his eyes coupled bottom to top. I knelt over, feeling a thready pulse in his wrist, my other hand placed on his forehead, which thankfully revealed a high temperature. I tilted my head to watch the rise and fall of his chest, and to feel the whistling of his breath against my ear.

At least that was what was supposed to happen.

For a full fifteen seconds, I waited for his breathing to start. Everything I could remember about seizures had the patient "coming to"- however drained physically they would be- after the event. A post ictal state- if memory served correctly.

Somehow, I remembered to pinch his nose before I gave a puff of air into his mouth. The force of the air caused his chest to expand and rise. It was a slight reassurance that his airway was clear. Earnest sweat began, as doubt thrashed itself into the foundation of science that I had barricaded myself with. Had the oxygen that he had been giving himself been enough to stave off any brain damage....assuming he lived through this? I really had no idea how long he had been seizing before we ran up to him.

Of course, this was when Bobby began to moan.

Those of you with a medical background fully realize that most people don't just pop out of a state where CPR or rescue breathing is necessary. A majority of the time, the rescuer is providing just enough oxygen to keep the brain, heart, and lungs intact until real help arrives. To put it another way- in Juraissic Park, when that kids gets zapped on the electric fence- slim chance that he's gonna pop up and give dinosaurs what for, just minutes after getting some CPR.

Bobby began to cry hysterically, which naturally summoned my wife to scoop him up and take his impossibly limp limbed body into her arms. Tears did not come. When the ambulance arrived maybe a minute later, the first responder was practically falling over himself to make sure everything was ok. I let my wife answer the questions he had, as my son flopped onto her shoulders. Although weak, he was curious as to who the stranger was. I was just glad he showed up.

Write or Die!

I was having lunch at a swanky locale (read food court), getting my eat on with some pizza and an overcooked bowl of penne, when I was reminded by a rather dapper fellow that I haven't blogged in quite some time.

Now, this is not to say that said dapper fellow hadn't mentioned my tardiness of blogging at some other times- in particular I remember it being a week after my last post that the scoffing began. Understand that said scoffing was coming from someone who already a well established blogger. ((a side note- I am a little groggy, and almost wrote well "endowed" blogger. HA!)) But I need to admit- even for a neophyte (Thank you thesaurus) such as myself- that I was in a bit of a slump. I had, quite honestly, not been inspired by much of anything.

And this is after the Giants won the Superbowl (!) By the way "Shake and Bake" has got to be the best name for the Play ( Manning to Tyree pass play, for you ignoramuses out there.) And yeah, I should trade mark that before some sports geek steals it.

But, lo and behold! For one reason or another, a week and a half ago, I suddenly decide to write. I wish I could tell you why- that there was some sort of serendipity that struck.
I guess that the closest reason I can give as to why I started up again would be...... I ran out of other ways to procrastinate. God Bless you writers strike! But honestly, it just sort of happened. "Organically" as some may put it.

Now, don't misunderstand me. When I say "Writing" I mean "opening up Microsoft Word, and typing about twenty pages of loosely formed ideas that- should all go well, will make a helluva beginning of a story." I really have no idea what would be the "best" way to begin is for a beginner writer. From what I have gathered (thank you Google) is that there really is no common best practice, save just getting down and writing.

The great part for me, is that I think I have laid out almost every detail as to what happens for a compelling story. The awful part is that I am realizing that I have no chops. Actually, that is a complete mischaracterization, because I believe that I put the words "chops" and "I" in the same sentence, while also implying "writing." Now don't get me wrong, I was apparently a great story teller in 4th grade, where Mrs. Hopkins- who was a wonderful woman with entirely too much hairspray and not enough makeup- would gather 'round the class into a reading circle, and all thirty kids would sit- quietly!- bound by my make believe tales- spaceships, monsters, green slime, and mustached villains. Sometimes they were ALL IN ONE STORY. It was frikkin' awesome.

But 4th grade was a long time ago- which must be a surprise to anyone taking note of my punctuation errors ((over/under: 22))

So the point of all this would be- writing is obviously not like riding the ol' ten speed. And I ponder what sort of exercises I could partake so as to sharpen the quill, as it were. More likely than not, I see myself just writing, and retooling, rewriting, editing, etc etc. But I do wonder if there is a better way......

What I have finally discovered/admitted to myself is this: This "work", as it were, for better or worse, is so worth it. Things I see in everyday life become a little more vibrant, as I try to transform something ordinary and mundane into a moment of magic or truth in a story. Although there are some homages...... some entwined history which is part of the work, it is still something uniquely from my head, and it is something that I've wanted to tell- for years now. Hell, even if no one else ever reads it, just the process is fascinating and fulfilling. We are force fed too many things in our lives- being creative like this is liberating, to say the least.

And- to borrow some geekdom from another blog I recently read- 5d12 gp for anyone that can tell me how to say "write or die" in latin.